


Mothbird

by thesunkid



Category: DCU - Comicverse, Nightwing (Comic)
Genre: Fae & Fairies, M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-20
Updated: 2012-06-20
Packaged: 2017-11-08 04:15:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/439034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesunkid/pseuds/thesunkid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p> “I was dead when I woke up this morning” — Seven Devils by Florence + the Machine</p>
<p>Alt. "He's some kind of fucked up angel."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mothbird

**Author's Note:**

> Welp.  I finally did it.  Finally wrote a fic about the pair I agonize over.  I’m fucking scared, first time writing Jason and all.
> 
> Also it helps if you know a little about moths. And by little I mean very basic stuff.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ

It didn’t take a genius to know that the universe got a sort of perverse delight in fucking with the capes.  No one knew that better than the Bats.  It had been instilled in them at an early age; she was always ready to fuck you over.  Be it a hair in your soup or crowbar in your face, she dished it out like rain, cold, unforgiving acidic rain.  Hey, she liked her Bats bruised, beaten, and selfless.

And nothing was going to keep her from that.  So when Jason woke up, expecting to see his legs strewn across the scorched factory floor, it was more than a pleasant surprise to instead, find himself alone in the middle of some field with his legs still attached.

He just wished he had pants.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ 

Plucking blade of grass number seven hundred and forty-eight, Jason toyed with the idea of gathering its fallen brethren and shoving the earthy clot down his throat till he choked and died—or at least blacked out.

Nothing ever changed here—ever.  The day never came and neither did the night.  He’d been sitting there for hours and the sky had not once shifted from its shimmery red-violet.  There were no stars, no clouds, no birds, no bugs, no people—no nothing—just a field of dry grass and a fucking twilight sky.

Jason sighed and tossed nth number blade of grass in the air, watching as it fluttered down onto his naked thigh.  Maybe he could weave himself a pair of grass pants.  He eyed the large pile of dried dead foliage by his side. 

He could wait.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ 

This was getting ridiculous.  No watch, no pants, no food—though strangely enough he was never hungry.  This was nothing like the last time he’d died.  Though, that hadn’t been much better.  Everything had been silent then, quiet and serene and heavy like a good long sleep, nothing like this fucking game of dice with his head.

The ground around him had been picked bare and the heap of dead grass pillowed his head rather than covered his legs.  He could deal without the inevitable chaffing that would come with grass pants.  Nudity didn’t bother him, it was the reaction of anyone who might find him that worried him; he didn’t need his only chance at freedom to take one look at him and turn tail.  Crazy homicidal nudist: bad.  Crazy homicidal assassin: good.

A breeze picked up out of nowhere—which was a rather dumb label, as “nowhere” was exactly where he was—guiding the stalks into a series of waves that rolled into each other down the sea of violet-gold.  Jason shot up as the hairs on his nape raised and a tickling gathered there before sliding down to the middle of his back.

It was an odd sensation to say the least, one that trees or kindling probably got—if they could feel—that dreaded moment before being thrust into an eager blossom of flames.  Jason had felt it twice, once all those years ago in a small warehouse in Sarajevo and once in a factory seconds before another fucking bomb cheerfully handed him a one way ticket to violet-gold covered Hell.

This time however, there was no bomb in sight and no stupid fucking clown, but rather a fuzzy white dot slowly making its way to him until it floated just a few inches from his nose. 

Oh hey, something new.

The thing—a moth, and what the fuck was a moth doing in hell?—fluttered its wings like it was blinking blankly at him then landed on the small of his back.

He shrugged.  He had nothing to lose.  “Hi,” he tried, cannon-balling once again into the Crazy Pool.  He should make note of that: Warning, Hallucinations, 8 Feet, “Name’s Jason.”

The moth crawled around his back, little legs sparking minute shocks that concentrated at the middle of his spine.

“I’m sorry could you repeat that, my Moth’s a little rusty.”

The shocks faded into pulsing warmth that suffused the entirety of his back and for a moment Jason felt a strange sort of peeling sensation, like a wet piece of silk was being pried from his skin.  Then all of a sudden it was gone and air was rushing in between…something just below his shoulder blades.

The moth crawled up his back and onto his shoulder, fluttering its wings until Jason turned his head.

“What?”

It rose, brushing its stubby antennae against his nose before landing on a stalk just a few feet away.

Jason glanced behind him.

Well, that was definitely new.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ 

Dick was about seventy-five percent sure that he was dreaming.  Why else would Jason be reclining on his window sill at, he glanced quickly at the clock by his bedside, four fifteen in the morning naked as the day he was born?  The other twenty-five percent said that this was just an ordinary day in the second life of Jason Todd.

“Hey, Dickie-bird,” he drawled, folding his hands behind his head, “I didn’t wake you did I?”

Turns out the other twenty-five percent was right.

“What are you doing here?” he asked gathering his covers around him.  Jason’s brazen nudity was not something he needed to see this early in the morning.

Jason flashed him a wry smile, “I can’t visit my big brother once in a while?”

Dick surveyed him silently, searching him for any hidden weapons.  He wasn’t sure how one would hide them when one was lacking clothes, but he was sure if anyone had found a way, it’d be the Red Hood.

Pearl white teeth flashed wider in the moonlight and something about it unnerved him.  Jason looked too comfortable in the nude precariously perched on his window sill.

The younger man waved hand down the length of his body, “Like what you see, Big Bird?”

Dick forced back a flush.  Yes actually.  His little brother had grown up well, but now wasn’t the time to dwell on the shift of muscle under a smooth lucid expanse of milk white—

Dick’s eyes narrowed and that unnerving slipperiness pooling in the back of his mind rushed forward.  Jason was bare.  Yes, bare—naked, unclothed, in the buff—but also bare of any blemishes—wounds, burns, and scars—perfectly clean and unmarked.  A flood of gooseflesh washed over him.

“Jay,” he breathed and then stopped, eyes falling on something soft and delicate peeking out from Jason’s back.

Jason followed his brother’s gaze and for a moment the sly arrogance of his smile twisted into something quiet and bitter before quickly shifting back.

“What is that?” Dick whispered wide eyed.

Raising his arms, Jason spun around until his back was bared in front of Dick.  Immediately, Dick jerked back.  A frail pair of white moth wings fluttered nervously, opening and closing in time with Jason’s tense breathing.

“What…”

Jason craned his neck around a glare primed to strike when Dick doubled over in a fit of laughter.

“Are—are those what I think they are?” Dick forced out between laughs.

The wings fluttered angrily releasing a low hum that only served to intensify the older man’s amusement.

“Ha. Ha,” Jason glared, “Laugh it up.”

Dick’s arms shot out, catching him moments before he hit the ground.  His shoulders quaked as he tried to hold in the rest of this laughter.  Once he managed to wrangle it into submission, he raised his head, meeting the quirk of Jason brow.

“You finished?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest as the wing beats and humming died down.

Dick nodded and climbed back onto his bed.  Well if that wasn’t a wakeup call, he didn’t know what was.  Jason’s wings were almost translucent in the moonlight, silver veins branching out into a spiral maze design.  It was quite enchanting really, but Dick wasn’t about to voice this new discovery or risk Jason leaving.  His little brother was like a wild animal in that sense, well, he was like one in other senses, but he never showed weakness.  When he did, you didn’t just throw it back in face; insult, even harmless ones, drove him away.

“So, how did…” he began, gesturing toward Jason’s new appendages.

Jason shrugged, leaning against the window sill as if still contemplating escape, “Dono.  This thing—this moth—just flew over and the next thing I knew I had these frilly little things.”  The “frilly little things” in question twitched shyly and Jason leaned back, smothering them against the wall until they stopped.

Dick chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully, “Have you tried talking to Zatanna?”

“Right,” Jason replied, cocking a brow, “The Red Hood asking the Justice League for help?”

Oh right.  That wouldn’t go over well.  Dick bit down on his lip harder.  Who could they call?  Bruce maybe, but Jason would have to be dragged kicking and screaming and buzzing to the Cave.  And even then, would the two of them be able to talk?  No, most likely not.

Alfred was probably their best bet, but somewhere along the line, Bruce would be alerted.  Not through Alfred, but through some sort of accident, maybe.  There was not a secret that could be kept from the Batman for long.

Dick rubbed his chin and leaned back onto the pillows.  Who could they call?  Then something occurred to him.

“Jay,” he asked softly.

Jason hummed, absently.  He seemed quite taken with the moon, Dick noticed, had noticed from the beginning.

“Why me?”

The muscles in Jason’s shoulders clenched and his body ran rigid.

“Why me, Jay?”

Jason’s gaze remained rooted on the moon, hanging full and luminous just outside the window.  If Dick hadn’t known better, he would have thought that if Jason just stretched a hand out, his fingers would brush its rough surface.  “Jason,” he tried again.  The slipperiness had returned, churning restlessly in the back of his mind and reaching out with cold fingers to raise a new round of gooseflesh on the back of his neck.

“You really are the ‘Golden Boy’ aren’t you?” Jason whispered, chuckling lowly, “So bright.  So warm.”

“Jason?”

He turned to face him, the contours of his face grown thick with shadow.  Only his eyes, pale blue and star-like remained visible against the moon’s glare.

“I died.”

Dick blinked.  “Yeah, I know,” he said rising from his bed and moving to place a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

Jason jerked back, “No.  I mean again.”  The shadows around him darkened, swallowing his new milk white form.  “Permanently.”

Breath was coming much harder for Dick now.  “W-what are you talking about?  You’re right here.” He reached for Jason again, but his fingers curled around empty air as Jason dodged once more.

They locked eyes, Jason’s muted blue and Dick’s bright with anxiety.  “You’ve just got a little problem, that’s all,” Dick whispered, lips trying to twist into a smile.

Jason snorted.  It short and half formed, missing Dick by a mile and hit the floor with a thud.  Silence resounded around them.  Dick’s fingers clenched, nails biting into his palms.  He started forward, arms out stretched to catch Jason and keep him there, but instead his chest collided with his brother’s open palm.

It was eerily smooth and neither warm nor cold.  Dick couldn’t stop the shiver that crawled down his spine.  Jason smiled bitterly as he watched the hairs on Dick’s arms rise then pressed his palm flat against his brother’s chest.

“You’re really warm, you know that?  Like some sun someone folded up and forced into a mouthy package.”

Dick huffed, a strange cross section of offense, amusement and anguish, then brought both his hands up to wrap around the one over his heart, “Let me warm you up then.”

Jason laughed—a real laugh, “You would, wouldn’t you?  You would ruin the moment with some sugary Hallmark line.”

Dick shot him a hopeful smile, but Jason shook his head, “Just came to say goodbye, Dickie-bird.”  He pressed forward suddenly and then he was gone.

Dick stumbled back onto his bed, shaking fingers curled into his bottom lip.

The next thing he knew, the sun was peeking through his window, its rays strangely cold across his face.  His gaze immediately drifted toward the window sill, but it was empty, just an endless expanse of blue.

A jaunty pop song pierced the air, and wordlessly Dick reached for his cell.  He hit the little green button and was about to press it to his ear when something small and white caught his eye.

“—ick! It’s Tim! Are you ther—”

Dick stared at the curious little thing on his window sill—

“You’ve got to listen!  Bruce has fallen back in t—”

—and reached out with trembling fingers—

“—lfred is trying his best t—”

—to follow the delicate silver spiral marking—

“Dick! Dick! You’ve got to come back please, Jason’s—”

—a pair of crumbling translucent wings.

Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ


End file.
